


forget your scars (i'll forget mine)

by sevensevan



Series: pride month 2018 [30]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 12:04:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15119024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevensevan/pseuds/sevensevan
Summary: Daisy and Jemma have a morning to themselves, and Jemma catalogues Daisy's scars.





	forget your scars (i'll forget mine)

**Author's Note:**

> and here we are at the end of pride month. huge thanks to everyone who’d commented on, reblogged, liked, etc. my fics this month. it means a lot. extra shout out to everyone who sent in a prompt, i had a lot of fun filling them. i seriously didn’t think i’d be able to do this when i decided to (which was, like, a week before the beginning of june), but here we are, and i didn’t miss a single day. thanks again. this fic felt like the right note to end this month on. i hope you like it. enjoy. partially inspired by [this amazing piece of fanart](http://jerrejerreink.tumblr.com/post/173547071045/scarred-jemma-basically-i-found-a-bit-absurd).

Daisy has a lot of scars.

Jemma had known that, on some level. She’s been the one patching up a lot of those wounds, after all. But she’d never given it much thought, really. Even since they started this…whatever it is between them, since Jemma began seeing Daisy in various states of undress on a regular basis, she hasn’t paid much attention to them. But today is different, and Jemma isn’t really sure why.

Maybe it’s the location. Maybe it’s the fact that instead of being crowded into a tiny bed in a tiny room barely big enough for one in a S.H.I.E.L.D. base, they’re sprawled out under white, soft sheets, sunlight streaming in the window of the hotel room they’re staying in. Jemma has woken up beside Daisy plenty of times since they started this, but it’s never felt quite like this. Lazy, gentle, unhurried. Like they have all the time in the world.

“You’re staring,” Daisy says, her eyes still shut. Her voice is quiet, like she doesn’t want to disturb the still air of the room. Jemma understands that. The moment feels special. Important, somehow.

“Little bit,” Jemma agrees. “You’re beautiful.” Daisy opens her eyes so she can roll them at Jemma. “I’m being serious,” Jemma says reproachfully. Daisy makes a vague, noncommittal noise, her eyes falling shut once more.

Jemma reaches out one hand, tracing the scar on the Daisy’s stomach. It’s small, circular, just below her ribcage, a little to the left. It’s an old one, years old. Daisy’s eyes drift open a bit, half-lidded, watching Jemma.

“It was so long ago,” Jemma murmurs, covering the scar with her palm. Daisy doesn’t respond. Jemma doesn’t really need her to. Her hand drifts from the bullet wound to the surgical scars nearby. She traces them with her fingertips. “Do you miss it, sometimes?”

“What, getting shot at?” Daisy asks with a wry grin. Her eyes slide the rest of the way open. “Hate to tell you, that still happens a lot.” Jemma huffs.

“Not getting shot at,” she says, shaking her head. “I mean…I don’t know. How young we were. Back then.”

“We’re not exactly on the edge of retirement these days,” Daisy points out. Jemma hums in agreement.

“I miss it,” she admits. “I still felt like…the world was good. Back then, I mean. I felt like people were good, the universe was kind.”

“Not so much anymore,” Daisy says, smiling sadly. Jemma shakes her head. Her hand moves on from the surgical scars, drifting up to the small scar on her temple, next to her eye. Jemma isn’t actually sure where that one came from. She moves on from it quickly, drifting down Daisy’s shoulder and arm to the rows of straight, shallow scars on her forearm. They’re the oldest of all Daisy’s scars, faded to nothing but slightly raised white lines.

Daisy is watching her intently as Jemma touches them. Before, Daisy had only been half-paying attention, but now, she holds Jemma’s gaze steadily.

“It was a long time ago,” she says quietly.

“I know,” Jemma says. There’s nothing else to say, so she leans down, kissing the largest of the scars before moving back up Daisy’s body, curling around her side.

“I don’t think about them very much,” Daisy says after a minute.

“The…” Jemma can’t quite make the words come out, but she reaches out, touching Daisy’s forearm lightly.

“Any of them,” Daisy says. “Those ones, the bullets, whatever.” She rolls her head to the side, her forehead almost touching Jemma’s. “I don’t feel like I have to when I’m with you.” That makes Jemma’s chest ache with a pleasant sort of wonder.

“You don’t,” Jemma says. “Besides, you’re not the only one with scars.” Daisy’s eyes flick to the various scars on Jemma’s face. There’s a few from that fall into the ocean years ago, from torture, from Maveth. They’re faint, all of them, and usually covered with makeup, but Jemma doesn’t feel the need to hide herself from Daisy.

“No,” Daisy says, resting a hand on the scar on Jemma’s leg, where the LMD of Fitz had stabbed her. “I’m not.” Jemma kisses her, her hand tracing a scar on her shoulder. Daisy sighs happily when they break apart. “Go back to sleep, Jem,” she murmurs, shifting onto her side and wrapping an arm around Jemma. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Jemma drifts back to sleep and dreams of nothing at all, warm and safe and happy right where she is.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks again to everyone who read my work or left feedback this month! if you sent me a prompt and i didn't fill it (ONLY prompts that have already been sent in; no new ones), leave it in the comments here and i'll work on it. don't expect to hear from me for the next few weeks (i'll be putting up the second chapter of yesterday's stucky fic later today tho); i'm headed out of town and won't have time to write. one more time, thank you. i'm on tumblr @daisys-quake; leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed.


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